


ballet and traditions

by chemily



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Christmas, F/F, The Nutcracker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemily/pseuds/chemily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a kid (and now young adult), Laura never seemed to care much for Christmas and the traditions (rituals?) it seemed to bring about. Instead, she'd rather stay at home and wait out the holiday season. And her (beautifully) apathetic roommate/girlfriend should be fine with the lack of holiday cheer, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	ballet and traditions

A light rapping at the window startled you awake, lying on your bed surrounded by notebooks and blinking away the accidental nap you have just participated in. It was early evening, you could tell after a quick glance around the room, the dimming lights, the shadows across the floor, your beautiful roommate awake and on her bed. She was smiling at you, calmly and sweetly. “Bad dream?” she smirked after returning her eyes to her laptop. She rarely uses her laptop aside from essays and listening to music. She appeared to be doing both, her large pair of headphones pushing down on her curls. You’ve mocked the gargantuan electronics that she adorned frequently but the conversation always ended the same.

_“Those are embarrassing.”_

_“They’re the best in the world.”_

_“How would you even know?”_

_“Well, aside from testing beyond my fair share of headsets, these happen to have the widest frequency range and they have killer bass response. They could make even your music sound good.”_

_“Rude. I thought Bose made the best headphones.”_

_“Hmph, please. Bose sold out years ago and have been manufacturing crap ever since.” Occasionally a “no offense” is thrown in as she glances at the noise cancelling headphones on your desk._

_You roll your eyes. She puts the headphones back on._

So instead this time, you just smile. Reading days were nearing an end and all you could think about was home. Initially you had planned to leave for your house before the reading days began but with your original roommate gone and your dead for a week but not girlfriend/roommate back, you decided that your dorm room was the best place to study. You heard the sadness in your father’s voice as you broke the news to him but Carmilla aside, it was probably best to stay at school and crank out some papers in the library, so long as they didn’t move themselves.

Besides, you weren’t much looking forward to the potential Christmas festivities in your hometown. Christmas hadn’t been a favorite in the Hollis house for many years. Even before her mother’s death, Laura hadn’t taken to Christmas like most children. Being an only child meant not sharing the excitement of Christmas morning with other siblings and they lived too far to spend that much time with extended family. But then with the accident in November and a disgruntled Mr. Hollis dealing with the loss of his wife and trying to keep Christmas special for his only daughter, he ended up breaking down on Christmas. The food was burnt, the presents were terribly wrapped and the store was out of Christmas movies.

Though it wasn’t typical, this started a new Christmas tradition of eating grilled cheese and tomato soup while watching what Mr. Hollis described as “The Classics.” It had started with cheesy 80s movies that your father claimed were the best when he was your age, or a little older, and eventually ended with watching every famous silent film up to recent classics. The two of you often didn’t say Merry Christmas and you each exchanged about one gift a piece. It wasn’t your average holiday, but it was nice.

You and Carmilla hadn’t talked much about the holiday or anything to that effect. In fact, you weren’t even sure if she celebrated Christmas (her last name seemed sort of Jewish but you didn’t want to stereotype) and it wasn’t like her to be exuding anything resembling holiday cheer. Only once did you actually mention the topic and it went about as well as you could have expected.

_“Are you going to Perry’s ‘Winter Wonderland Party?’”_

_“Are you?”_

_“I haven’t quite decided yet, but Perry’s been nagging me.”_

_“Must I?”_

_“I guess not.”_

_“Then I guess I won’t.”_

You left it without further discussion. She didn’t mean to be so standoffish all the time but you know what they say about old habits. Before losing yourself in thought again, you sat up straight. You were writing an essay, prior to the nap and you actually had to focus. Upon picking up a book, you heard something. You checked your laptop to make sure it wasn’t accidentally playing music into the room (it wasn’t) and then looked over at Carmilla, head bent over a book, headphones still in place.

You hated staring at her. She mentioned that it makes her uncomfortable and you respected that, you truly did, but sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. She had on a tight black tank top and jeans that couldn’t be comfortable to be lounging in. Her bangs fell into her eyes slightly and she pursed her lips just a tad as she was deep in thought. Her long fingers turned the pages as her eyes flitted around the words. She always looked too delicate to be as strong as she is.

And she was humming.

It was a tune you knew, but couldn’t quite put your finger on. It came in soft wafts through the air and was often droned out when the wind hit the window. But in between breezes, you could hear it.

“Is that the Nutcracker?” you spilled into the room.

“What?” she replied, pulling off the headphones.

“What you’re humming. Is that the Nutcracker?”

“Well, not THE Nutcracker, but yes, a piece from the ballet. Trepak.” She was so offhand about everything she did. She didn’t ever want to seem eager to tell even the slightest detail about herself. Her nonchalance frustrates you to no end but you always forgive her. You’re the first person she’s let into her life in many years, and it’s neither of your faults that she’s so used to being pushed away that she has learned to push back a bit.

“Do you like the ballet?”

“Well, to be perfectly honest,” she replied, breaking eye contact. “I love it.”

“Really?”

“You seem surprised.” You shrug. “Yes, in fact, I do love the Nutcracker. The performance is always exquisite, especially that in New York. The plotline is dull but mystical. It has excitement and passion. There’s love and adventure. It’s entirely festive and fitting for the season and is the one thing that hasn’t completely been modernized and sold out in recent years.”

You feel your mouth opening a little. You’re shocked, to be frank. You haven’t heard Carmilla talk like this since she was bound to a chair and you had sock puppets on either hand. She was always so poetic and smooth, her voice coating the room like honey. You hadn’t ever thought much about the Nutcracker (see: single-father Christmas spectacular) and you definitely weren’t expecting it to have such an effect on your usually unaffected roommate.

“Also,” her drawl cut through the silence you had accidentally created. “Tchaikovsky is a musical genius.”

“Oh yeah,” you manage. “I bet.” She was always so pretentious with music.

_“Taylor Swift has got nothing on Lady Gaga.”_

_“Do you even hear yourself? Aside from shifting genres to fit the ever-changing musical climate, she had one of the only platinum records in years.”_

_“So you’re defending her turning her back on her own music?”_

_“Like Lady Gaga has never done that.”_

_“I have seen all of the greats in concert. Strauss, Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, not to mention the contemporary Russians. I think I know more than you on this topic.”_

To which comment you always back down. There are things worth fighting for, and then there’s a 334 year old vampire who refuses to acknowledge merits of pop music or others unless on strictly her own terms. Some things are best left alone.

“Here,” she said, pulling the headphone jack out of her laptop. “Listen.” Her voice was soft and careful. None of this was meant to be forthcoming or abrasive.

Soon music filled the room. It swelled and beat along and Carmilla tapped to the rhythm of the percussion crescendo. You’d heard this song before but never paid much attention to how nice it really sounded. Carmilla was right. It was genius.

“And this song…” She clicked a handful of buttons on her computer. “…is a waltz.” She rose from her seat on the bed and walked to yours, hand out. “Care for a dance?”

You smile. It has been some time since you last danced together and you were truly hoping it would last longer than the previous number. You took her hand and stood slowly, slightly exhilarated, slightly nervous. Woodwinds and strings fluttered around the room in the introduction to the waltz. She kissed your hand and bowed. You curtseyed. It was all in good fun as she laughed and you laughed. Everything with her had been so natural and nice. You were so glad that this was no exception.

The music began to be more pronounced, creating a waltz to engulf the room. Carmilla pulled you in close, face to face, chest to chest. The whirling began promptly thereafter. You were clumsy and she was delicate and every movement was enjoyable, stubbed toes and all. She smiled through it all, and you blushed in return. It was all so brilliant.

“You know, I don’t really do it justice.” She was the first to speak and it was the first moment you were pulled back to reality. “Maybe we should just look up some of the dances online.” Her suggestion won out, as you could barely dance with her leading you and now you saw her leading over to the bed. She lied down first and you cuddled up to her, the laptop between you and youtube videos streaming before your eyes. The dancers were lovely and Carmilla was right, it all was wonderfully festive.

“Do you like Christmas?” It was your turn to break the silence.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything? We could have gotten a tree or rented some silly Christmas movie or gotten matching sweaters or at least gone to Perry’s party or…”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah it is, if you think it is.”

“I never said that. I just said I liked it. And I do. I love the colors and warmness. I love people coming together and giving gifts and spending time with family. I love snow and peppermint and pine trees and Christmas music and…” You felt yourself feeling defeated. You should have asked Carmilla what she thought about Christmas before you discarded it like that. You were embarrassed. And selfish.

“You. I like you. And I know things aren’t always easy in your life and with your family. I didn’t want to bring up something painful for you,” she continued. “I could tell you didn’t like Christmas. I’m not going to force you to love it like I do, or love it at all. But um…” And in that moment she got so shy. It was amazing to see her look down at her cuticles, her eyes shifting rapidly and absently. “I’d love to show you why I love it so much. Christmas makes me so happy and I want to make you happy and..”

You’re touching her cheek. You’re touching her face absently until she looks up and locks eyes with you again. Every time you see her, a million thoughts race through your brain usually rendering you senseless at a time like this, but not this time.

“I’m sorry for not asking you about Christmas and for making an assumption.” She nodded. “And listen, I might not like Christmas that much but I’m beginning to like it more.” The laptop is still playing a character dance from the Nutcracker when it begins to swell with your words. You hold her face in yours and lean in for a kiss.

“And maybe, in a few years, I could even grow to love it.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing in 2nd person POV. It's actually so weird but I loved every second of it. I like to think that Laura can sometimes be the reserved one and Carmilla is the excited but shy one. Comments, suggestions and review are always wanted so hit me up. Happy holidays to all of you!


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